Late Watch
by virtual-batgirl
Summary: Jason has been crushing on Barbara for a while, but now she's been shot. He doesn't take it well. Warning for language.


"Just tell me what the fuck happened, Bruce," Jason pleaded. "If you won't let me see her at least tell me that."

Bruce could have been a stalactite for all the emotion he'd betrayed. "Joker wanted her father. He used Barbara to get to him. She's still alive and is in surgery now."

Jason was furious. There was more than Bruce was letting on, he knew, but he also knew that Bruce would never tell him if he didn't want to.

He wanted to see that fucker pay with his life for hurting her. _Hurl that motherfucker from the top of Wayne Tower and watch his brains splatter all over the pavement 110 storeys below and shit on his dead body and… _

_But Bruce fucked that up for me, didn't he?_ Jason thought. _Fucker's safe as houses in Arkham and Babs is in there fighting for her life._

He ran upstairs screaming. Into his room he dug into his most private storage box and pulled out the only photograph he had of Barbara. It was her prom picture, stolen months before from the bedroom of his older brother.

As far as Jason was concerned, if he hadn't cared enough about her to take the photo with him when he left home, he didn't deserve to keep it.

When Jason's screams and cries had quieted hours later, Alfred found him sleeping with the photograph clutched tightly to his chest. He plucked the photograph sadly from his charge's arms, gently polished the now-tearstained glass and placed it quietly on Jason's own dresser.

That night Jason didn't want to be on the streets. Bruce was a big fan of routine, and that meant getting dragged out on patrol. Barbara's first surgery had gone well, but she wasn't yet stable enough to try for the bullet.

On his own, his attention would always wander over in the direction of Wayne Memorial. Bruce had arranged a private suite for her, but he hadn't yet been allowed to see her. He recalled Bruce saying, _When she recovers a bit more, you can go to see her. As far as anyone knows you're just a boy she tutors in her spare time._

He snorted. It was ridiculous.

Rather than sneak away for his usual illicit smokebreaks, tonight and for many to come he would circle towards the hospital and perch on the windowsill of Barbara's hospital room. The bed was empty on the nights when she was in surgery, but he kept up the watch all the same.

On a night not outwardly unlike any of the others that had come in the three weeks that preceded it, Jason opened the window of Barbara's room. She'd been heavily drugged by the nurses earlier in the evening.

He'd watched the evening unfold and stayed in place at the window, not even bothering to continue the pretense that his patrol was his priority. It was his firm intention to be there when she needed him.

Jason watched her visiting with her father after the news had been delivered earlier on. She'd pasted a convincingly brave expression on her face for his benefit.

He watched her lips form the words "It's ok, Dad,", but the words that followed were directed away from him and he could not know what she said next.

Some of the girls she worked with at the library had popped by with an eBook reader for her to use. They'd loaded it with a selection of books that ran the gamut from the trashy to the classic. She smiled and laughed with them, but he could see the haunted look in her eyes. Even Bullock and Montoya, the erstwhile comedy team of the GCPD's major crimes unit had paid her a visit.

After they'd all left, he watched her slowly give up the fight to be brave. It started with crying that was soon followed by screaming much like that which he'd done a few nights before, and by the time she was flailing with her arms the nurses appeared to put a stop to her hysteria with tranquilizers.

He watched her struggles fade, and when her breathing had settled he quietly pulled the window open and slipped inside.

Reaching timidly for her hand, he was afraid of causing her more pain.

_She's been through enough_, Jason thought.

Putting her hand to his cheek, he sat down on the bed next to her, his own hand caressing the exposed side of hers.

"I love you," he whispered. "Walk, don't walk, I'll always love you."

The light squeeze of her hand was the only answer he received.


End file.
